


Princess Dandelion, Prince Buttermelt and King George the Crawley Attend A Tea Party

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Nothing Hurts, Role-Playing Game, Thomas Loves The Kids, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: (Post-season 6). Thomas Barrow had agreed to join Sybbie for a wondrous tea party, but he isn't allowed attend as his preferred character. Meanwhile, Lady Mary can't find her butler.





	Princess Dandelion, Prince Buttermelt and King George the Crawley Attend A Tea Party

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for not updating the stories that I have on hold. London life and the constant NOISE is grating on me and it's killing my writing buzz, so I've decided to take a break.  
> This weekend, I'm going to run off to the Lake District, carrying nothing but a few spare clothes, washroom essentials, a tent, supplies to go with tent and my laptop. I'll find a nice spot and I'll write. That's my goal.
> 
> I just want to write. No interruptions, no sirens, no telephone calls - nothing.  
> Nature. Serenity. Silence.  
> Peace.
> 
> Pray for me, please. I swear I'm losing my shit here.

It took great strength to ignore the child. Those big brown eyes bore into him, round and pleading. She knew his weak spots and was willing to exploit them, never caring when he looked foolish.

“You wore it last time!” Sybbie argued, folding her small arms over her chest. She was becoming quite cross.

“Well I’m not wearing it this time,” Thomas countered, placing his hands on his hips.

“But you did last time, remember?” she reminded the butler. “If you’re going to play _my_ game, you have to abide by _my_ rules, Mr Barrow.”

Thomas pursed his lips. Aunt Mary was rubbing off on her.

“Now Miss Sybbie,” he tried to reason, “I look rather silly in that outfit, don’t I? This time, why don’t you pretend to Princess Dandelion and I’ll be Prince Buttermelt?”

The little girl pouted, unhappy with his outrageous suggestion. Behind her, George carefully lowered the wooden train track he had been playing with and chimed in with the discussion.

“Sybbie is Prince Buttermelt!” He insisted. “We agweed before starting the game.”

“ _Little back stabber_ ,” Thomas thought. “ _You usually side with me!”_

He wasn’t truly annoyed. He had to suppress a smile when he heard George’s adorable attempt to pronounce the word ‘agreed’. The boy had yet to outgrow his baby lisp, though he was only four so this was to be expected.

“George is right!” said Sybbie, her tone very serious. “ _I’m_ Prince Buttermelt!” She jabbed a finger against her chest and tilted her chin upwards in a most haughty fashion. Oh yes, aunt Mary was certainly moulding her.

Outnumbered, Thomas was forced to accept defeat and surrender, throwing his hands into the air.

“Oh alright,” he sighed. “I’ll be Princess Dandelion.”

Sybbie’s stormy expression vanished as quickly as it came and was replaced with a glowing sunshine smile. Twirling on one foot like a ballerina, she squealed, “goody!”

“The things I do for you children,” Thomas crooned, patting her head affectionately.

“Please wear the frock! She begged, clinging to his wrist. “You are expected to dine with me at the castle with me and you wouldn’t be properly dressed. I’m forced to wear my best dress when I go to church on Sunday!”

“The king isn’t coming,” George interrupted, calling out to them from the other side of the nursery. “He’s fixing the twain.”

He meant that he, King George the Crawley (there was little logic when it came to children and the naming of characters), was currently reassembling the wooden train tracks that had previously been destroyed by a large, rampaging teddy bear. It was good to see a king put his duties before a fancy supper and Thomas admired his highness’s strong work ethic, a trait he would have inherited from his late father.

Sybbie, however, was growing impatient again, tapping her foot against the floor. Thomas gave her nose a playful tap and reached for the pink lace shawl decorating her bed. He tied the fabric around his waist and placed her golden princess crown on top of his head. Sybbie beamed, pleased with his obedience and ran to embrace Thomas but just as she reached him, she noticed something was missing. Tugging on his trousers, she encouraged him to bend down. Happy to comply, Thomas knelt before her and smiled, curious to know why he had been reduced to the height of a six-year old. Without comment, Sybbie turned and trotted over to her dollhouse to retrieved the daisy chain necklace she had crafted earlier that morning, which she threw unceremoniously over the butler’s head.

“There!” she cried happily. “Now you’re ready!”

With a deadpan expression, Thomas closed his eyes and muttered, “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you look pretty.” Sybbie corrected him.

He snorted and gave her plump cheek a gentle tickle. She giggled and Thomas likened her twinkling laugh to the delicate, sweet sound of a windchime swaying in a summer breeze. He smiled when she copied his action and ran a featherlight finger down the side of his face.

“I’m not half as pretty as you,” he said sweetly.

Sybbie scoffed. “I’m Prince Buttermelt, I’m _handsome_.”

“Yes, you are,” Thomas agreed, chuckling softly. He couldn’t disagree with her logic.

“We have to go to the castle now,” the little girl chirped. “Please follow me, your highness.”

For three minutes, Thomas pranced about the nursey with Prince Buttermelt. An (imaginary) magical carriage flew them to ‘Castle Sybbie’. They carefully bypassed the ongoing railroad construction next to the dollhouse which pleased the hard-working King. When they finally arrived in front of the castle gates, they were greeted by three doll maids and a tiny tin solider butler who told them Queen Sybil-doll (Sybbie’s favourite porcelain doll) was waiting for them in the grand hall.

 

Whilst Thomas and the children continued to play, downstairs, Tom poked his head around the dining hall door and found the room empty. Retreating backwards into the hallway, he called to his sister-in-law, “Mary, he’s not in here either.”

“I thought I saw him pass by earlier this morning,” said Mary. “Perhaps he had an errand to run and needed to walk into the village.”

 “Perhaps,” Tom answered, shrugging his shoulders. “He might be busy in his office, although I think he’ll be due a break now.”

Before May could reply, she heard a familiar voice nearby. She rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of a blonde hair.

“Anna!” She addressed the maid, hurrying towards her.

Anna turned on her heel and looked around with wide, startled eyes. Spotting Mary, she bowed her head and politely asked, “can I help, my lady?”

“We were just looking for Barrow,” said Mary. “I thought I saw him walk past here not long ago. I wanted to inform him that Edith had written to us last week to arrange a visit for this weekend. I said I would speak to Barrow about their visit but I’ve been so distracted recently, I forgot to mention it to him. Edith, Bertie and little Marigold will arrive on Friday and leave early on Monday morning.”

Anna kindly explained, “Mr Barrow has taken the afternoon off, but he is around somewhere. I think his Lordship has already spoken to him about Lady Edith’s visit. I’ll still mention -”

“We won’t disturb him if it’s his day off,” Tom interjected, smiling sheepishly over Mary’s shoulder.

 Mary glanced at him over her shoulder and gave a small nod of agreement.

“I’ll mention it to Barrow after supper,” she said, turning her attention back to the maid, “There’s no hurry if my father has already told him. Thank you, Anna.”

She made to turn away when Anna took a step forwards.

“Mr Barrow will probably be in the nursey with the children,” the maid said quietly, looking from Mary to Tom.  A cryptic, somewhat mischievous smile spread across her lips and she inclined her head towards the ceiling.

“Will he?” asked Mary, a sly grin forming on her own face.

“You might want to go up and see for yourselves.”

Mary looked over her shoulder at Tom. Tom stared back.

“Sybbie mentioned something about a tea party this morning,” he said slowly, tilting his head as he recalled exactly what his daughter had told him. “She did say she would be joined by a special guest. I assumed she was talking about nanny or one of her dolls.”

 

 

* * *

 

Neither Mary or Tom could believe their luck when they found the nursery door partially open. Had it been shut, they would have had to resort to spying through the small keyhole so as not to attract attention. They didn’t wish to disturb the attendees of the tea party, that would be rude. Quiet as church mice, the pair crept towards the door and peered around its frame. Their eyes fell upon Thomas Barrow sitting at Sybbie’s dainty table, draped in a pink shawl, daisy necklace and princess crown. Tom had to throw a hand over his mouth to silence his splutters as his eyes filled with hot, stinging tears. Mary kicked his ankle and held a finger to her lips, warning him to be quiet.

“I say Princess Dandelion,” Sybbie chattered.“This cake is excellent. Don’t you agree?”

“Why yes, it’s lovely,” Thomas replied in high, comical voice.

“Save some for the king!” said George, also speaking in a low, hoarse voice.

Mary hadn’t noticed her son at first. He was sitting at the other side of the room, surrounded by pieces of his wooden train track.

“I wonder how the kind could possible speak to us when he’s miles away in the countryside, fixing the railroad?” Sybbie asked haughtily, returning to her usual voice.

“He has magic ears!” the little boy proclaimed, shooting her a glare.

“Now, now,” Thomas interrupted, putting an end to their impending argument. “Play nicely everyone.”

“Yes, Mr Barrow,” chorused the children.

They went about their respective games in peace and Mary and Tom carefully took a step back, careful not to make any noise that would alert the children and butler of their presence. They scarcely dared to breathe until they reached the end of the corridor. Once they were out of ear shot, the pair burst into laughter; Mary tittering like a song bird whilst Tom roared uncontrollably.

“Thomas in a crown! And a pink frock” He spluttered, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, the sight will be engraved in my mind forever.”

“Oh hush,” said Mary as she dabbed at her own eyes. “He was wrapped in a pink shawl, now a dress.”

“Same thing!”

It took Mary and Tom all of five minutes to compose themselves. When they were finally ready, they descended the stairs once again and joined Lord Grantham in the library for tea. It only served to conjure up memories of their tall butler taking tea with Sybbie, his knees squashed against the top of the small table. They could picture his serene expression, the crown that sat atop his head, the shawl tied around his body and they laughed, unable to stop themselves.

“What has set you two off?” Robert asked his daughter and son-in-law, baffled by their giggling.

“Nothing!” said Tom. “Nothing at all.”

Robert squared his shoulders, looking rather put-out and Mary and Tom had to laugh again. They decided to keep the tea party between themselves so it could be their secret. One day, Lord Grantham would no doubt stumble upon a bizarre situation involving Barrow and the children and he would find his own reason to laugh.

“Never mind us, papa,” Mary assured him. “We’ve just had a lovely afternoon, nothing more.”

She and Tom exchanged another glance and snickered.

Their afternoon had been lovely indeed.


End file.
